


Alloys and Antibodies

by RosieTwiggs



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bad Dirty Talk, Clubbing, Dom/sub, Domestic, Drabble Collection, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Loud Sex, Perthshire Cottage, Prompt Fill, Romance, dom!Fitz, sub!jemma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTwiggs/pseuds/RosieTwiggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Fitzsimmons drabbles from my tumblr. Rating is subject (and likely) to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[@mrsdecaestecker](https://tmblr.co/mYyNPHdwexBs97bDyJQULkw) made a post saying:

> I have this scene in mind. Simmons helping Fitz to cover the wound on his face with foundation in the Singularity.

* * *

 

“Simmons, erm, would you -?”

She’s just finishing applying her makeup, and pauses in the middle of double-checking the scratches on her face, now barely visible. They’re healing nicely, but all things considered, she and Fitz don’t want to draw any unwanted attention to themselves.

Fitz has been watching her from the bed for the last five minutes, while Mack grabs a few last-minute items from the quinjet.

When she glances at him in the vanity mirror, he’s poking gingerly at his own scrapes and bruises.

“Would you like me to cover those for you?”

Fitz lets his hand drop and gives her a half-smile. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

She grabs a couple of things and moves to sit next to him on the bed, Fitz shifting to make room for her.

There’s been an unmistakable increase in the tension between them since last night, and every time she’s near him she can practically _feel_ him buzzing next to her, endless crackling energy between them. It makes it very difficult to ignore the fact that they’re both currently in a hotel room. On a bed.

_Alone_.

Jemma sighs. There’s no time. There’s never any _time_.

“Tilt your face up towards me a bit, that’s right,” she says, dabbing some base on a sponge. She brings her left hand up to his chin, meaning to hold him in place, but Fitz inhales softly the moment she touches him, eyes widening.

They stay that way for a moment, frozen, and then Jemma lets herself trail her fingers up to cup Fitz’s cheek instead. His eyes slide shut and he lets out a contented sigh.

No words are exchanged as she gets to work, Fitz’s face resting in her hand. His stubble feels course and wonderful against her palm, and she catches herself wondering how it will feel against other parts of her skin. She barely manages to hold back a shiver and keep working.

It doesn’t take her long. Fitz’s bruises and scrapes are faded, barely there to begin with. He hasn’t opened his eyes, sinking more into her hand with each passing moment. The silence of the room is calming, peaceful, a soft quiet that wraps them up in their own world.

“Done,” she finally whispers, unwilling to break the bubble. She brushes her thumb along the now invisible bruise on his cheekbone and he opens his eyes.

He looks content and completely relaxed, something she hasn’t seen in a long while, and he reaches up to grab her wrist.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb along the inside of her wrist, This time she does shiver, and gasps softly when he brings her hand to his lips to place a light kiss on her palm.

She feels the kiss down to her toes, the heat of his lips on her skin creating a corresponding heat in the pool of her belly.

_Oh_ , she wants so much more. She wants to feel that heat everywhere, longs for it. If only they could-

There’s a knock on the door and she immediately pulls her hands away, collecting the few items on the bed next to her.

She stands as the door unlocks and Mack comes in, carrying several cases.

“We just about ready to go?” he asks.

Jemma glances at Fitz. The same heat she felt between them hasn’t gone from his eyes - it’s there, watching, waiting.

“Yes, yes, I think-”

Fitz stands up, brushing imaginary lint from his suit jacket.

“We’re ready when you are Mack. Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whitecanarrow on tumblr requested: "Our AC is out and it’s the middle of the summer."

She thinks she might hate him.

Just a bit. Maybe just the part of him that is somehow magically immune to the horror that is an unexpected record high heatwave in Perthshire in the middle of August.

She looked it up. It hasn’t been this hot in the region for close to fifty years. _Fifty years!_

And of course they don’t have an air conditioning unit. Because it’s _Perthshire_. Why would anyone own an air conditioner in a town where the average high temperature in summer doesn’t generally go above 17 degrees Celsius?

The answer is no one would. And no one _does_. And everyone is miserable and everything is terrible and _god_ would it kill the atmosphere to send the slightest breeze her way?

Jemma wipes at her brow for the umpteenth time, sweat dripping down into her eyes, despite her best efforts. She’s never felt this uncomfortable, like she wants to get out of her own skin, like nothing she does brings her any relief.

There have been grass fires across Scotland. People have ended up in hospital for dehydration and heatstroke.

Yet _there he sits_.

Jemma glares.

He’d been up this morning, cheerful as anything. He’d slept incredibly well it seemed. Asked her if she’d wanted _coffee_ , of all things, as though she was a crazy person. Coffee! _Hot_ coffee!

And he’d only shrugged at her glower, poured himself a cup and whistled his way out into the garden.

He’s been tinkering out there for the last two hours, perfectly happy in the sunshine, wearing a vest and a smile, not a smidgen of discomfort apparent in any of his actions.

She maybe just might actually hate him.

“Okay, that’s done with. Jemma, would you give me a hand with this?”

She’d laugh if she could muster the energy. She settles for a look of sheer contempt instead.

Fitz’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well. Alright then, never mind.” He doesn’t ask again, instead goes about dragging whatever insane contraption he’s been working on inside by himself.

It’s some sort of big box with wide cylinders coming out of it. Her interest piques when she notices there’s a fan attached to one side.

“What - what is it?”

Fitz doesn’t respond, just grins and plugs it into the outlet and then hits the switch.

Within moments, blessed cold air comes pouring out of the cylinders, and Jemma could cry.

“Best shut the windows and doors, keep the cold air in. This should last to the end of the day, and then I can refuel it for the night.” 

She’s speechless as he heads to the icebox and pours himself a glass of lemonade.

“I’ll be outside, enjoying the sun.” He leans down, kissing her on the forehead, despite the sweat, and then heads back to the garden, sliding the glass doors closed behind him.

…

…

She might actually love him more than anyone or anything else in the entire cosmos.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find all my fic on my tumblr - rosietwiggs.tumblr.com.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> awriterincowboyboots prompted: fitzsimmons at the beach, vacation or mission, your choice :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, this is so appropriate after the finale, though it's a different island. If I'd gotten this prompt now, it would have probably ended up as something dirtier... ;D

He still can’t really believe they’re here.

The last 72 hours have been an emotional and physical whirlwind, but now, at last, they’re here.

“Here” happens to be a quiet, semi-private beach on Ko Yoa Yai, Thailand, where Fitz plans to stay and do exactly nothing for the next week, before beginning a month long trek through the rest of the country.

Well, do _close_ to nothing.

He and Jemma definitely weren’t doing _nothing_ this morning.

He fiddles with the new gold band on his left hand, twisting the ring on his finger and smiling. 

Every time he closes his eyes he can see her walking down the aisle towards him all over again, smile brighter than the sun, so sure of herself - his Jemma. From that point on it’s all a jumbled mess of laughter and the party, congratulations, rushing to catch their flight, falling asleep from the sheer level of emotional exhaustion, but both of them with smiles on their faces.

He takes another sip of his Mai Tai, grimacing slightly. Too sweet. He’ll want a scotch later, but Jemma had ordered for the both of them, pulled out a book and then promptly fallen asleep moments later. He can’t say he blames her. The sound of the waves crashing, the ocean breeze, the sunshine… He might nod off himself soon.

She’s snuffling in her sleep, drooling just the tiniest bit, and his heart swells with love for a moment.

He settles back in his chair, stretching his legs out, still twisting the smooth metal around his ring finger. He closes his eyes, seeing Jemma all in white once again, and eventually falls asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> awriterincowboyboots on tumblr prompted: fitzsimmons and dirty talk

“Did you just-?” 

Fitz is still breathing heavily, both of them coming down off the high of their orgasms. Jemma’s legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, her eyes closed and a smile on her face. Soon, he’ll have to pull out, but not yet. For now, he wants to revel in the feeling of being surrounded by her, replay the feeling of her tightening around him, calling out his name, and-

“Did you really ask me to _flood your pleasure centers with endorphins and oxytocin_ right before you-?”

If he sounds incredulous, well, it’s only because at the time, he didn’t realize how ridiculous it came across. It was couched in loud gasps of “Yes! _YES!_ ” as well, and the more Fitz thinks about it, the more endearing and hilarious he finds it.

Simmons opens her eyes, cheeks going red. “Um. I - I may have said something to that exte-”

“No. No, that was it exactly.”

Jemma glowers at him, unhooking her ankles from behind his back and shoving at his chest. “Well, if you’re going to make fun of me about it, then you can jus-”

Fitz laughs, managing to get his arms under her back and hold her tightly to him. “No, no, don’t. I’m not making fun, I promise. I think it’s delightful.”

She frowns, not quite believing him. 

“No, really. I do! And besides, I think I did a good job. You got what you asked for, didn’t you?”

She rolls her eyes at him and stretches a bit, making Fitz groan in response.

“You always were a bit of an odd bird.”

Her eyes soften, and he kisses her forehead gently.

“Maybe leave the dirty talk to me in the future, though…”

“Oh, as though you could do any better?” Her skepticism is clear.

In response, he grins and leans down, whispering dark promises in her ear.

“Oh, _oh_. Um, well. Yes, well, I suppose then that we should…” She bites her lip and Fitz can’t help laughing and biting it too, already gearing up for another go.

And he keeps every whispered promise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: Loud sex/knowing someone can hear.

It’s not really that they’re trying to keep their relationship a secret. It’s more that it’s their own business, and they’re not going to go out of their way to make any sort of announcement.

That being said, Fitz and Simmons haven’t really been going out of their way to _keep_ anyone from finding out that they’re together now either…

“Someone’s going to hear us,” Fitz murmurs against her lips, sliding her skirt up her legs to bunch around her waist. When he lifts her onto the small desk in the storage room, several other items tumble with a crash to the floor, including a metal dish that hits the ground with a loud clang.

“So?” Jemma’s got her hands down the back of his trousers, scraping her nails across his ass, pulling him into her. He gasps, thrusting his hips against her involuntarily, biting at her lip and running a finger over the wetness of her panties.

“No matter, just thought it was worth pointing out, is all.”

She has his trousers undone in record time. He’s taken to keeping condoms with him wherever he goes now (as a scientist, he knows how important it is to be prepared), and when he tugs her panties aside and pushes inside of her, she lets out a high pitched moan.

They’re… not quiet. Jemma rarely is, and the table bangs roughly against the wall with each of his thrusts. She comes with a loud keen and he follows her moments later with a deep groan of his own.

In the deafening silence that follows, they catch their breath, grinning stupidly at each other.

“So much for keeping our relationship strictly professional, Dr. Simmons.”

“Well, Dr. Fitz, you can’t expect me to keep my head when you go off on a tangent about quantum electrodynamics. You get all worked up, it’s really quite attractive.”

Fitz smiles and kisses the side of her neck. “Do you think we traumatized anyone this time around?”

Jemma laughs, shaking her head. “Maybe a lab intern or two.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

-

Upstairs in his office, Coulson frowns at the small model of Lola on his desk, trying, and failing to unhear what he’d just heard.

“Huh.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested: Teasing and pain/sensation play. 
> 
> Includes Dom!Fitz and sub!Jemma.

Really, she only had herself to blame.

She should have known, early that morning when she woke him up by taking him in her hand, then her mouth, bringing him right to the edge before cheerfully hopping out of bed already dressed to leave, and letting him know she had to go. She was late for a meeting - leaving him so, so close, desperate for one last pull, for her perfect mouth to take him the rest of the way.

Instead, he fuzzily watched her rush out of their room, the front door slamming a moment later, leaving him naked and achingly hard, wondering what had just happened.

She should have known, when she grabbed him by the tie and pulled him into a supply closet later that day, in the middle of him _admonishing_ her, of all things, calling her out for that stunt she’d pulled that morning, only instead of looking abashed, she pushed him up against a wall, rubbed up against him, and kissed him - all tongue and teeth, fast, heady and dirty.

He was hard in seconds, morning forgotten, just desperate for her again, and to finish where they’d left off. It lasted a full thirty seconds before she was back out the door, yelling over her shoulder that she’d forgotten about some lab results.

She should have known, after work when they met with the team for drinks, and she pulled him aside to whisper in his ear that she wasn’t wearing any panties, wanted him to think about that, think about her, before brushing her had over the front of his trousers and the very noticeable bulge there, and heading inside. He’d needed five minutes before he could follow her in to the bar and hadn’t stopped thinking about fucking her up against a wall all evening.

She should have known it would end like this.

“You only have yourself to blame, Jemma. You know that.”

She whimpers now, tilting her head towards Fitz’s voice, blindfold firmly in place.

“Yes.”

“Yes, _what_?”

She whimpers again, and god, he loves seeing her like this, naked and spread out, desperate for him, as desperate as he’s been for her since this morning. 

“Yes _Sir_.”

“Good girl.” He’s still fully clothed, but he begins to slowly roll up his sleeves. “You weren’t very good earlier today, were you, Jemma?”

“No Sir.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Her legs are spread, one ankle tied to either corner of the bed. Her hands are cuffed and tied above her head, arching her back enticingly, her breasts and nipples just waiting for him to…

He trails a single fingernail up from her ankle up to the inside of her thigh and she shudders, keening for him. He can see how wet she is already, how much she wants him. Well, she’ll have to wait, just like he did.

He moves away, looking through the items he had laid out. He’d set them out with precision before they’d begun, watching Jemma’s eyes widen more with each one.

He finally settles on a pair of nipple clamps and a small flogger.

“You know what that means, don’t you Jemma?”

She tugs at her cuffs, aching to be touched.

_“You’re going to have to be punished.”_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested: firzsimmons + clubbing.

Fitz has never been one for the club scene, but then again, he’s never been able to say no to Jemma, either.

So when she gets tickets to the opening night for a brand new club while they’re visiting London, he smiles and clears his evening and lets her pick out what he should wear.

It’s not so bad, really, going clubbing with Jemma, especially when she steps into the living room of their hotel suite, dressed in a shimmery silver top with virtually no back, and a tiny black skirt he can’t wait to get his hands under.

Not so bad at all.

“You look handsome,” she tells him, when they find a seat in a relatively quiet back corner in the club. “Very fetching.”

“Fetching? That’s the word you’re going with?” he asks with a laugh. She’d gotten him into jeans far tighter than he was generally comfortable wearing, and a tee-shirt in a size to match. But even he couldn’t deny it - he looked far better than ‘fetching’.

Jemma bites her lip, looking over the drinks menu. “No, you’re right. Really, you look more like ‘sex on legs’ but…”

The music in the club is resonating deep in his chest, and he’s halfway aroused from the the ambiance, the dark lighting, and Simmons at his side. Fitz grins at her, shifting closer to trail his fingers up the inside of her leg. “You know, the word ‘fuckable’ comes to mind every time I look at you in this skirt…”

She lets him tease her, humming as he gets closer to her center. They aren’t Fitz and Simmons tonight, not really. They’ve left the lab and the job and the heavy, never-ending weight on their shoulders back at HQ, and tonight they’re taking it a step further. There’s nothing like diving into an unfamiliar and new environment to leave your comfort zone behind.

He trails light kisses down her neck, loving the feel of her shiver, the way she can’t help spread her legs the tiniest bit, asking him for more, wanting him to touch her _more_.

“Care to order?” Jemma startles and Fitz buries his face in her neck, taking a deep breath of her scent before looking up at the waiter. It’s very obvious where Fitz’s hands are, but he doesn’t bother moving them, and the waiter doesn’t seem to care.

His fingers brush against barely-there lace panties, already soaked through.

Jemma hums, shivering again, but glances at the menu. “Yes. I’ll have a martini, and he’ll have a double scotch, neat. Something top-shelf, please.”

As the waiter walks away, Fitz leans in a nips at her earlobe. “I love it when you say please…”

Jemma laughs in response and stands, leaving Fitz feeling bereft. “Come on then, Fitz. Dance with me.”

When Fitz scoffs, she leans down enough so he catches a glimpse of her cleavage. Anyone standing behind her is getting a fantastic view as well.

“ _Please_?” She draws out the word, teasing him, and he can’t resist her. Never can.

He follows her on to the dance floor, and part of him feels ridiculous, just like he always does when he dances, but the other part of him is too focused on Jemma to care. On the sway of her hips under his hand. The feel of her ass brushing against his front as she moves. The way she closes her eyes in pure enjoyment, leaning her head back on his shoulder when he dips his hands down the front of that brilliant skirt. The bass of the electronic music creates a deep, dark tempo, a promise of things to come later that evening.

They’re on display in the middle of the dance floor, but they’re completely hidden too. Everyone around them is too caught up in the music, the dancing, grinding, moving, falling into each other.

When Fitz runs a finger through her folds, Jemma gasps but doesn’t tell him to stop. No one knows them here, no one’s watching, and if they are, well…

Let them enjoy the show.

She turns in his arms, leaning in to kiss him. It’s sloppy and fast and perfect, and he doesn’t let up his attention. He wants to feel her fall apart, wants to see her shudder when she comes, the lights of the club glinting in her hair, the loud music covering her gasps and moans. 

He’s relentless, moving with her in rhythm to the music and his fingers on her clit. He savors every shudder, every gasp, every time her lips find his because she needs to be kissing him. He’s achingly hard, but there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, he wants everything she has to give him.

She comes as the music hits the crescendo, digging her fingers into his hips, dropping her forehead to his shoulder and whimpering close enough to his ear that he can hear every glorious second of it. She’s magnificent - moving to the music he plays on her body and nothing else.

They continue to sway together through the aftershocks, up until the tune changes and a new beat begins to play.

“Come on, let’s get our drinks,” he says. 

Later that night, Simmons puts on a soft, slow jazz song in their bedroom and lets him love her again, this time slowly, deeply, and with everything he has.

Any rhythm, any beat. They’ll always match it, as long as they’re in tune with each other.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find all of my drabbles on my tumblr - rosietwiggs.tumblr.com.


End file.
